


Pitter-Patter

by under_a_linden_tree



Series: under_a_linden_tree's prompt ficlets [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Couch Cuddles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Ficlet, M/M, Rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:14:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24328630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/under_a_linden_tree/pseuds/under_a_linden_tree
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley spend a lazy afternoon snuggling up at the bookshop.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: under_a_linden_tree's prompt ficlets [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1755112
Comments: 14
Kudos: 65





	Pitter-Patter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [5ftjewishcactus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/5ftjewishcactus/gifts).



_ Pitter-patter, pitter-patter _ , goes the rain against the bookshop window. It’s a harsh, cold world outside, grey in grey. Crowley eyes the weather with displeasure. It had been a perfect morning, not a cloud in sight, but as soon as he had thrown open the door to the bookshop to offer Aziraphale a ride to the countryside, the downpour had started.

Now he is sitting on - well, sprawling across, rather - Aziraphale’s comfortable reading chair, where the sound of rain is less obvious. The whistle of the kettle rings from the backroom and after a few moments, the angel returns with two cups of tea, steaming hot and filling the air with the delicious smell of vanilla and cinnamon. Crowley reaches for the red cup that has miraculously made its way into Aziraphale’s cupboard a few days after the botched apocalypse. It was only the first of many things that had found a spot in the crowded bookshop.

“Weather’s horrible today,” Crowley grumbles into his tea.

Aziraphale settles into the worn-down sofa, cradling his own cup. A gentle smile is playing around his lips, and he seems perfectly content here.

“You think so, dear?”

“It’s raining and it’s cold,” Crowley points out, somewhat superfluously.

“Well, then  _ I _ think we should do something about that,” Aziraphale says. “Come here, darling. I can’t do anything about the rain, but I  _ am  _ rather good at keeping the cold away.”

He pats the space beside him on the sofa, carefully lifting one of the several blankets that have amassed there over the past weeks - the more unforgiving the weather gets, the more throws find themselves stacked there. Crowley sets his cup aside and shuffles over to settle in next to the angel, relishing the feeling of warmth that instantly encompasses him. Aziraphale puts an arm around Crowley’s waist, keeps him close.

“How’s this?” Aziraphale asks, draping the blanket over both of them. “Are you comfortable?”

Crowley nods, and he soon feels the angel’s chin resting against his collarbone. There’s so much softness surrounding him; a warm blanket, Aziraphale’s cosy jumper and the gentle nudge of his chin. It’s not very demonic of him at all, but he finds that this domestic type of closeness is growing on him, finally bridging the gap that has kept them apart for centuries, millenia even.

From the corner of his eye, he watches as Aziraphale carefully toes off his shoes. He wouldn’t usually do that, but he has an armful of demon that keeps him from reaching down. A moment later, Aziraphale shuffles a little and settles his legs on the sofa, placing them so Crowley can comfortably lean against them, which he does.

“I could linger throughout the remaining day, just like this,” Aziraphale says and runs his hand through Crowley’s hair. “Longer even, if you’d stay.”

Crowley can feel the vibrations of Aziraphale’s voice, calming and tender. He could get used to this, this gentle existence next to each other,  _ with  _ each other.

“I think I’d like that, too,” Crowley says.

He closes his eyes and rests against Aziraphale, basking in the warmth of his embrace. For once, he is doing nothing but listening.

_ Pitter-patter, pitter-patter _ , goes the rain against the bookshop window. It’s soothing, and Crowley smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to 5ftjewishcactus for the prompt: "rainy afternoon snuggles in the bookshop"


End file.
